Some tasks I dread doing, like weeding the garden, grating cheese, vacuuming, and stacking wood. It’s not just disdain for repetition and predictability, but also the inherent possibility of injury or being bored to death. The fact that I know these aren’t one-time events, makes it worse.
I find numbers soothing in many circumstances. I add, subtract, multiply, and divide. I count breaths, trips, rows, clogs, jams, or minutes. Often I calculate how much money I’m saving by not hiring a professional, or I figure out how much I would charge per minute if I were one.
Three years ago I decided to count the logs as I stacked a cord of wood. A cord is usually four feet high by four feet wide and eight feet long, or 128 cubic feet.
It took me all week to complete, but 270 trips carrying two logs at a time came to 540. (It’s easier to count by twos than threes or fours.) I made note of that figure.
Two years ago, two cords of wood arrived along with eight inches of snow. That was manual labor at its worst. Counting, however, helped. I was curious to see if 540 was indeed a reliable number. I ended up tallying 1084, four extra logs. I’m definitely on to something.
Last year, three loads arrived at once. There was going to be a lot of counting.
As the kid dumped the last pile I proudly said, “I’ve already stacked 100 logs! That’s about a fifth of a cord, just about 20%. By my calculations there should be 1620 logs here.”
He looked at me blankly.
“Did you know there are 540 logs in a cord give or take?” I asked.
“That’s weird,” he said oddly. Maybe it was odd that I was sharing this weird information.
A few days later I came home to find my sister stacking. “I did five trips for you” she announced as I got out of the car. Despite her kind gesture, I had a slight feeling of unease.
“Chad was helping earlier, but I don’t think he was counting. I’d estimate maybe 40 logs each.” I was feeling slightly panicky. I sensed a loss of control. Doesn’t everyone know how important this is to me? I need to keep track or else come up with a new system to complete this job.
It must have been a day for Good Samaritan’s because shortly after Dee left, two friends arrived. They were dressed like professional woodsmen, in red and green plaid jackets.
“We’re here to help!”, they announced in tandem.“Oh, fantastic!” I said with a sinking feeling. “Do you know there are 540 logs in a cord?” I asked. It was a test. I hoped the response would be “Oh wow! That’s so cool, what number are you up to now?” Instead I got, “Oh man, don’t tell us that”.
That was it. No irrefutable numbers this year however, the job got finished in record time.
Stacking wood with friends and family is quicker and can be more fun. So what if no one else cares how many logs to a cord? Not everyone is into numbers.
Yesterday, when I arrived home, Peter had begun to stack. “The new cart holds 40 logs and this is my second trip.” His words were music to my ears. I counted as we filled the cart from his truck five more times. The total came to 278, two logs shy of a full half cord.
Some things we dread, but must do. No matter how we get a task done, whether by calculating, singing, listening, watching, zoning out, zoning in, commiserating, or simply being mindful, there is a feeling of accomplishment at the end. And sometimes your own method really is the best one.
Alexandra Langstaff 